


My Blue-Eyed Boy

by Macabre74



Category: Fallocaust Series - Quil Carter
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Attempted Sexual Assault, Casual Heroics, Drug Dealing, Fisticuffs, M/M, Memorable First Meeting, Panic Attacks, Stalking, past trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:26:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21698455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macabre74/pseuds/Macabre74
Summary: An aimless reimagining of Reaver and Killian's initial introduction.
Relationships: Reaver Merrik/Killian Massey, Reno Nevada/Bridley
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	1. A thanks would have been nice

REAVER

What was the point of kicking students out of class?   
  
Chances are if they were being rude and disruptive, they didn't want to be there in the first place - so wasn't kicking them out more of a reward than a punishment? Reaver stalked through the empty hallways of Aras High School like he owned the place, his dark hair unruly and past regulation-length, leather jacket worn defiantly over his school uniform, tie loosened and the tails of his shirt untucked because no one will respect your rebellion if you don't look the part.

In theory, he was meant to be heading for the principal's office after being ejected from class, but anyone that honestly expected him to turn himself in to the principal of his own volition was probably suffering some sort of brain damage. Reaching into his inner jacket pocket to grope the crumpled pack of cigarettes there, he made a sharp left turn toward the handicapped bathroom in the music corridor, the one that saw the most infrequent usage because frankly, Aras High's music program was trash.

Approaching the bathroom, his attention was piqued by the sound of an argument around the next corner. Usually, Reaver had a fairly hands-off policy when it came to other peoples' business; if it had nothing to do with him, he didn't get involved. No one would ever be able to accuse him of being particularly empathetic, but the sound of the high-pitched complaints was curious enough that he postponed his mid-afternoon smoke to see what was going on.

The scene revealed once he turned the corner was not entirely unexpected or even particularly novel considering this was a typical high school filled with typical teenagers. Lean and rangy, with a crooked nose and greasy auburn hair, a student Reaver recognized as Bridley had another boy pinned up against the closed door of one of the classrooms. "I want the rest of my money, faggot," he sneered, bony fingers curled into the other kid's collar as he shook him back and forth, knocking his head into the door once or twice in the process.

"I...I don't have it," the kid stammered, and Reaver got a good look at him for the first time when his head raised to make eye-contact with his assailant. Blond hair, curly and darker at the roots but still obviously natural. His delicate features wouldn't have been out of place on a girl, except for the fact that he seemed to be sporting a hint of stubble paired with dark bags under his eyes that a girl would likely have gone out of her way to camouflage somehow. What was truly striking, however, was the vivid blue color of his eyes, like the ocean on a sunny day, so bright you could practically see the waves cresting in their depths even from down the hall.

Bridley slammed Blue-Eyes against the door again, the hard knock of his blond head echoing in the empty hall. "That's what you said last time, and I'm running out of patience, Massey. It's time to pay up, one way or another." Reaver watched as the space between the two boys disappeared, Bridley pressing further into the younger boy's space, his free hand gripping the kid's jaw firmly while one thigh nudged insistently between the blond's legs. The sound of the boy's panicked gasp snapped Reaver out of his observation, the dark-haired rebel stalking toward the two just as those blue eyes widened like the horizon, the whites visible the entire way around signaling a measure of mania Reaver would wonder about later. Right now though, he reached out and grabbed Bridley's shoulder, roughly yanking him away from his victim.

"The fuck do you want, Merrik?" Bridley asked, clearly irritated by the interruption, and though he didn't release his hold on the smaller boy, his attention was fixed squarely on Reaver - which was exactly what Reaver wanted.

Without any hesitation whatsoever, Reaver cocked his arm back and punched Bridley dead in the face, his knuckles immediately throbbing with the satisfying ache of first contact. Bridley stumbled back, releasing his hold on the blond kid, who immediately edged away from the two. "What the fuck's your problem?" Bridley shouted, one hand going to his nose which had a trickle of blood running from it. Reaver was disappointed; he'd wanted to break it, see if the ugly thing could be knocked back straight. He raised his fist to try again, but no longer off-guard, Bridley didn't just stand there and take it, and soon enough the two were flat-out fighting, fists flying as they grappled and slammed against the hallway wall, just beneath a faded Anti-Bullying poster long-forgotten by whatever hopeful administrator had put it there.

At some point during the scuffle, Reaver noticed that Blue-Eyes had picked his bag up from the floor where it'd been lying this whole time, a guitar-case from the look of it, and taken off running for the exit doors at the end of the hall, dashing to freedom and leaving Reaver behind to deal with his mess. Inwardly he scoffed at this, but he wasn't too bothered. It wasn't the first time he'd traded blows with Bridley; he was on-again, off-again with Reaver's best friend Reno and had a jealous streak nearly as long as his mean streak and when he'd knocked Reno around enough to leave the boy visibly bruised, Reaver had gone after him with a vengeance. Of course, Reno always wound up going back to the abusive asshole, so any excuse to fuck Bridley's shit up was good enough for Reaver.

"What's going on here?" echoed through the hall just as things were getting good, Reaver warmed up and ready to really lay into Bridley, whose face was now smeared with blood and sporting a knot above the left eye that pretty much guaranteed it'd be black by tomorrow morning at the latest. Both students' heads whipped toward the speaker as they mutually separated, and Reaver shoved his hands into his jacket pocket, turning and heading for the same doors that Blue-Eyes had left through. "Reaver Merrik, I'm not done with you yet!" Reaver smirked to himself without looking back. The vice-principal was all talk; Reaver wouldn't worry about him until word got back to the principal himself, and even then Reaver knew how to make himself scarce until the worst of it had blown over. He headed out into the overly-bright afternoon sunshine with a displeased squint of his eyes, leaving the sound of Bridley being lectured - no doubt on the way to the nurse's office - behind.

Jogging out to the street, Reaver caught sight of the kid he'd rescued down the block at the bus stop and briefly considered going over to give him a hard time about not saying thank you, but then he recalled the wild panic in those blue eyes when Bridley's harassment had turned pseudo-sexual, and he found himself more curious than annoyed. Maybe he just wasn't gay and had freaked out over another guy pinning him down like that, but usually, that'd result in anger, not Blue-Eyes' visceral fear. Reaver couldn't wait to find Reno and tell him that his shitty ex-boyfriend was already molesting kids in the hallway after their most recent break-up last weekend. He'd have to put that exciting conversation on hold though, since the bus was pulling up and the kid was getting on, despite there being three hours left in the school day. Reaver waited for everyone to get onto the relatively crowded bus before slipping on himself through the rear door, tapping his bus pass on the entry scanner and slinking into a seat. His eyes narrowed as he peered through the press of bodies to find his quarry, seated near the front.

The bus ride wasn't long; Reaver watched the blond boy stand shakily when they reached the Metro station stop, and he rose to his feet as well, exiting the bus and staying far away enough that if Blue-Eyes looked back he probably wouldn't notice him. He didn't look back, not even once. Lamenting his generation's utter lack of observational awareness, Reaver continued to follow - stalk? - that curly head, still filled with a level of curiosity he usually reserved for dead things and new comic books, and almost never for perfect strangers. Finally, the boy stopped walking, sitting on the edge of a low concrete wall and lowering the guitar case from his shoulder. He took the guitar out with reverent fingers, leaving the case open on the ground in front of himself.

Reaver didn't know what he'd been expecting, whether it'd be amateurish plucking of strings or some earnest but off-tune high-school level cover, but what he certainly didn't expect was the rich, confident sound of music, actual music, that this kid, no more than a freshman for certain, wrung from the guitar's taut strings. He wasn't the only one that appreciated Blue-Eyes' talent, as passersby began dropping coins or the occasional crumpled bills into the open instrument case, most no doubt pandering to their own self-satisfaction at 'supporting the arts'. Reaver finally remembered the cigarettes in his pocket and fished one out, lighting it with a nearly-depleted Ed Hardy lighter he'd stolen from someone ages ago. With a long inhale and a slow exhale, the white smoke spilling from his lips like secrets, Reaver settled in to listen, leaning up against the brick facade of a nearby building where he had a good view of Blue-Eyes' performance without being easily seen himself, just how he liked it.

Two hours passed the way time does, stealthily, and Reaver watched as the boy laid his guitar over the money - smart not to count it out here on the crowded street - and slung it back over his shoulder. He didn't head for the bus stop when he started walking, and that same curiosity from earlier had Reaver following him again. He was in no rush to get home and face the tongue-lashing he was likely to get for today's hallway fight, anyway. Blue-Eyes' stroll had him meandering through the residential part of the city, the ill-maintained brownstones worth a small fortune even in their disrepair and likely to be snapped up in the next wave of gentrification. For all of his rebellious badassery, Reaver actually lived in a much nicer neighborhood, the suburbs nearer the private school they attended, and Reaver idly wondered how someone who lived in this part of town could afford to attend Aras High, rather than the public school in this area.

They walked to an even shadier looking part of town, the brownstones giving way to tenement housing apartment blocks and rundown single-family homes with yards devoid of much grass but choked with weeds. It was one of these houses that Blue-Eyes finally stopped at, the gate latch creaking with rust as he lifted it to walk up the sidewalk to the porch. The house was in better condition than its neighbors, comparatively, but still had that same sad aura of neglect. Once Blue-Eyes stepped through the front door, closing it without, to Reaver's mild disbelief, having checked behind himself even once, Reaver walked around the side of the home until he reached a tree on the west side that overhung the fence. With minimal effort, he silently pulled himself up into the branches, which afforded him an unobstructed view through what appeared to be the open living room window. He lit another cigarette.

What followed was a movie motion capture of Blue-Eyes' home life, as observed by Reaver Merrik. He saw the blond greet an emaciated woman sitting on a brown leather sofa, her features obviously once-pretty but ravaged by life, and it was immediately obvious where he got his looks from. Reaver saw him smile for the first time, perfect pretty white teeth that spoke of better dental care than their residence would have one assume they could afford. He watched as the guitar case was traded for a tea kettle, and an exhalation of smoke clouded Reaver's features as he watched the boy interact with his mother. His hands were gentle as he hand-fed her soup; her hands, in turn, were gentle as she brushed back his hair and observed the faint bruises on his jaw from Bridley's earlier grip. “Oh, Killian,” she sighed, eyes closing as she leaned in, pain etched on her features, to brush dry lips over his cheek. An IV bag was hung beside the woman, and as it dripped slowly, her head lolled back, asleep. He took the needle from her arm, massaging her painfully thin wrist before tucking the blanket around her and kissing her forehead.

Reaver took one last drag of his cigarette as a single tear rolled down Killian's cheek before he turned and retreated to his bedroom; end scene. Reaver dropped out of the tree, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as he headed home, taking the faster if slightly more expensive train rather than waiting for the bus, his mind a thousand miles away.


	2. Not for sale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian snaps, because that's what happens when you push him too far.

KILLIAN

One day, he’d set this place on fire.

Killian hated Aras High School. He hated the uniform, with its restrictive ties and sensible black shoes. He hated the syllabus, with the school’s outdated books and nearly non-existent music classes. He'd tested into a performing arts school, and that's where he'd have been attending... if only. He wouldn't let himself think about the 'if only'. Instead, he'd focus on how much he loathed this particular institution, and most especially the assholes that attended it. As a part of the freshman class, technically Killian and all of his classmates were new students at Aras High, but unlike most of the others, he didn't live in this neighborhood and hadn't grown up with these kids. He was newer than new, and as the lowest-ranked man on the totem pole, he was fair game for everyone to get their kicks in.

It was taking a toll on his nerves, but not as much as the fact that out of the corner of his eye, it seemed like no matter where he was, Reaver was there, skulking around in the background. Maybe it was just paranoia; what interest would the most antisocial guy in school have in following him around? He kept his head down, attended his classes and tried to remain out of the way of the school's more vicious students whenever possible, but due to circumstances beyond his limited control, he found himself unable to keep entirely out of harm's way. 

"You again?" Bridley snarled, sporting one hell of a shiner on his left eye, as well as a split lip. Inwardly, Killian cringed. He'd just wanted to get away, he hadn't expected that other kid to whale on Bridley like that and now he knew he'd likely have to pay for it.

"I have money," Killian said, refusing to give in to the internal warnings that made him want to do nothing more than tuck tail and run. He'd made a decent amount at the station over the past week, enough to finish paying off the electric and gas for the month along with the late fee, and also enough to cover what he owed Bridley as well as make one more purchase from the older teen today.

Bridley squinted at Killian in obvious disbelief. "Carter, go on ahead and I'll catch up with you. Me and Massey here have some unresolved business to take care of." Whoever Carter was, maybe a friend or maybe just another of Bridley's customers, he nodded and took off in the opposite direction, but not before aiming a leer at Killian, as if he knew something Killian didn't. The blond couldn't worry about whatever it was right now though; he had to make peace with Bridley somehow. He was the only connect Killian had, unfortunately.

"Pay me what you owe, first of all," Bridley demanded, one hand out. Killian nodded quickly, laying two fresh twenty-dollar bills across Bridley's palm, gained after using the coin counting machine at the local bank. That left him with twenty-five dollars to his name, enough for lunch and what he needed to buy today. "What the fuck is this?" Bridley asked incredulously, and Killian blanched. He only owed Bridley forty, he'd kept track for certain, and he said as much. "What about this?" Bridley demanded, pointing at his eye. "And this?" he added, jabbing a finger toward his nose, which was possibly more crooked than it'd been a week ago - it was hard to tell. "Pay up," Bridley demanded darkly, and with his heart sinking down past his knees, Killian handed over the remainder of his money, tears welling up in his eyes and threatening to spill over.

"Awww, is little Mister Massey gonna cry?" Bridley asked in a mocking tone that cared little for Killian's obvious distress. "Tell you what," he said, tucking all of Killian's money into his own pocket. "Since I'm in a giving mood," he said, beady eyes squinting with sadistic pleasure at the hopeful light that immediately radiated from Killian. "I'll let you pay today in alternative currency." At Killian's look of confusion, he laughed, the sound dangerous and mirthless in the dim classroom, the only light coming from the overcast sky outside the windows.

"What currency?" Killian asked, his mind screaming at him to run, to get as far away from here as possible, but he persisted; if there was a way, he had to at least try.

As if waiting for Killian to ask, Bridley stepped forward, once again crowding into Killian's space, pressing the smaller boy up against the wall, his hand snaking up Killian's ribcage inside of his uniform jacket. "The only currency accepted everywhere," he whispered beside Killian's ear, his lips dragging across Killian's jawline, enjoying the smooth softness of his freshly shaved skin almost as much as he enjoyed the jittery trembling of Killian's nerves betraying him. When he reached Killian's lips, the boy jerked his head away, eyes clenched tightly shut, but Bridley reached up and yanked his head back and, to Killian's shock, Bridley slapped him across the face, white light exploding behind his eye from the impact. "Are you trying to piss me off, Massey? Should I just say fuck it, nevermind?" he asked, staring down at the shorter boy callously.

Killian shook his head, tears pooling in his eyes once more, and this time he stood stock still as Bridley moved in again, predatory lips moving over his own forcefully while Bridley’s hand roughly jerked Killian's shirt from where it was tucked into his pants, his cold fingers roaming Killian's side and around to his lower back. Killian's heart was beating so violently he expected a teacher to walk in at any moment to find out what that jackhammering sound was, but no saving grace appeared. Bridley's insistent lips and tongue pried Killian's mouth open, invading to the sound of Killian's gasping breaths, his clenched fists hitting the wall behind him.

"So tense," Bridley mused, drawing back briefly, and if Killian thought that was it, he was sadly mistaken. Bridley's hands jerked at the front of Killian's uniform regulation slacks, undoing the fly and yanking them far enough down Killian's slender hips that they fell to his knees. If Killian was stiff before, he was a statue now, eyes dull and unseeing as Bridley pressed up against him again, one hand slipping into Killian's boxers. His fingers wrapped around Killian's soft cock which was entirely unresponsive to the rough groping or the wet, laving kisses Bridley was leaving on his neck, the older boy's excitement as stark as Killian's was not.

Frustrated, Bridley yanked Killian's hips forward, grinding his obvious erection against him. "Fucking cold fish," he said disparagingly, before grabbing Killian's arm and quickly jerking him around, pressing his front up against the wall. Killian put his hands up to keep his face from smacking into the wall, and at the same time, he heard the sound of Bridley's zipper going down. His eyes widened, coming back into focus as he realized what Bridley intended to do, and he began to struggle, to no avail. Bridley kept him shoved up against the wall where he couldn't get traction, panic keeping his limbs from responding how he wanted them to. Laughing at Killian's struggles, Bridley freed his cock from his underwear, sliding it up and down the cleft of Killian's ass through his boxers which drew the first cry from Killian's lips, a sound of pure anguish.

"So that's how I get a response out of you," Bridley chuckled, reaching into Killian's boxers and grabbing a handful of tight, freshman ass, squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise before he yanked down one side of Killian's boxers. Swiftly, Killian grabbed the other side, yanking them upward to try and keep them on as he simultaneously tried to fight Bridley off of him, his voice a choking litany of pleas for the older boy to let him go. "This is no way to handle our transaction, Massey," Bridley intoned as he pinned Killian's arm to his lower back. "Be reasonable - you want drugs for whatever worthless junkie it is you're supporting," Killian's voice caught and his eyes flared with anger at this. "And I want this," Bridley continued, unaware, his hand in Killian's boxers trailing fingers into the cleft, heading for the treasure tucked securely within.

Before Bridley's fingers could reach their goal, Killian bellowed with a nearly inhuman rage, shoving away from the wall and out of Bridley's grasp. Before Bridley even knew what was happening, Killian shoved him back over the closest desk, sending the older boy sprawling to the ground. Killian yanked his pants up with rage-filled fingers trembling, walking over to Bridley and stomping on the auburn-haired teen's knee, earning Killian a resounding scream from his tormentor he'd be jubilantly replaying in his mind, in the darkest hours of the night, alone in his room. "I'm going to fucking kill you!" Bridley screamed, lunging at Killian with a speed the younger of the two hadn't been expecting. Killian went down to the ground hard, dazed, and when his eyes focused, Bridley was on top of him, punching him in the head. Killian, using the fact that Bridley's pants were still around his knees, struggled to get from beneath him, elbowing him in the jaw to scrabble away. When Bridley reached out to grab Killian and drag him back, he grabbed onto Killian's pants and jerked them down the boy's hip.

Killian's eyes blazed again, and instead of trying to get away, he launched himself at Bridley again, a dervish of flying fists as he screamed his rage, pummeling Bridley as if something had snapped inside of him. With Bridley's arms now up over his head to protect himself, Killian didn't stop, kneeling over the bigger boy and laying into him with unbridled fury. "...and you’re the worthless junkie, you piece of shit! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!"

Killian was still screaming when he felt arms pulling him off of Bridley, and he lashed out, trying to attack this new enemy as well. "Jesus, Reaver - hold him!" Killian had no idea whose voice that was and he didn't care. He'd fucking kill them all and set their corpses on fire if they tried to touch him. This resolve had him twisting and squirming with renewed vigor until he found himself in a firm bear hug, pupils blown wide as he watched Bridley being dragged across the floor, bloody and battered and seemingly unconscious, by a boy with dark hair and blue eyes and a friendly face he'd seen around a few times, usually with… Reaver. Killian's head jerked upward so suddenly it hit the jaw of the boy holding him, who let out a pained grunt as a result. It was Reaver. Without realizing it, Killian's locked-up muscles began to unclench in the older boy's arms, though he was still practically hyperventilating.

"You really let him have it," Reaver muttered under his breath with grudging respect. "Jackass is going to need real medical attention."

"Bridley, Bridley baby wake up," the boy leaning over Bridley was lightly slapping his face, trying to rouse him. He looked up at Reaver, eyes pausing on Killian briefly before he said, "Reav, he needs an ambulance. I'm calling for an ambulance," he decided, fumbling for his cell phone. Reaver swore under his breath, helping Killian to his feet, albeit not at all gently.

"Reno, take the kid and get out of here, I'll deal with this." Reaver said, shoving Killian toward Reno and stalking toward Bridley.

Reno finished giving the address and location to the emergency operator on the other end of the line. "How do I know you won't just kill him when we're gone?" he sniffled, looking down at his battered ex-boyfriend. Bridley was a fucking asshole and probably deserved what he'd gotten, just taking in the situation at a glance, but Reno loved him, mostly, and he was in really bad shape.

"You don't," Reaver responded dourly. "Now get the hell out of here before my dad gets here."

Killian was confused - why would Reaver's dad be here? Wasn't he worried about the police or the school administrators? He didn't have much time to mull over Reaver's seemingly skewed priorities, as he was hauled out of the room by Reno. He quickly tucked his shirt in, wiping his face with the inside of his jacket to get as much of the tears and blood off as possible. "Wait," he exclaimed suddenly, whirling around and dashing back into the room before Reno could stop him. Ignoring Reaver's look of growing irritation, Killian dropped to his knees and dug around in Bridley's pockets desperately.

"What the fuck?" Reaver said under his breath as the little blonde pulled a knot of money out of Bridley's pocket, and instead of stealing the whole thing, carefully took only a five dollar bill before putting the rest back. Killian ignored Reaver, fishing around in Bridley's other pockets until he found what he was looking for, a little baggie of white pills, and again - instead of taking the whole thing, he only took one. He hesitated a moment, then shook out one more little white pill. "I owe you," he told the unconscious boy as he tucked the bag back where he'd found it, before fleeing the room with one more glance at Reaver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few more chapters to go on this one, nothing major, just missing the boys and enjoying the flow. As always, leave a kudos if you love Quil's characters too, and a comment if you have any feedback or enjoy the latest chapter.


	3. Cry so pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaver learns more about the boy filling up all of his empty spaces.

REAVER

He didn't think the kid had it in him.

Since that first day, Reaver had been keeping something of an eye on Killian. He'd not struck up a conversation or anything like that; it wasn't his style. But around school or the neighborhood, he just felt better when Killian was in his line of sight, probably because the kid was so oblivious to his surroundings

Reaver had been gleefully regaling a rapidly-angering Reno all week with the tale of what Bridley had done, and Reno finally resolved to go find Bridley and kick his ass for cheating on him. Reaver had equally-gleefully pointed out that since Reno and Bridley were broken up it wasn't technically cheating, but he still tagged along because seeing his best friend finally give his useless boyfriend the curb-stomping he deserved would be too good to miss. They'd looked in a few of Bridley's regular haunts to no avail until Reno pulled Carter aside to ask if he'd seen him. This led them to the classroom where they'd found a practically feral Killian beating Bridley into the linoleum.

Reaver's eyes missed nothing, so the state of disarray their clothes were in, coupled with Killian's rage, immediately alerted him to what the situation had been just before they arrived; Reno would be mad that his boyfriend had gotten the stuffing beaten out of him, but he wouldn't blame Killian.

Reaver was sitting on one of the desks in the classroom when the door burst open, the light switch flicked on as the principal, vice-principal, a security guard, and two paramedics rushed inside. "Reaver Merrik, what the hell did you do!" boomed the principal after seeing the boy on the floor and immediately stalking toward Reaver as if fully intending to beat the shit out of him in front of witnesses.

"Greyson, please," the vice-principal said, reaching out to tug on Greyson's arm as if to remind him that they were not, in fact, alone.

"Let go of me, Leo," Greyson snapped, shaking the smaller man off of him. "Go home, and I mean straight home, and don't stick so much as your fucking nose out of the house until I get there," he whispered furiously to Reaver, who shrugged and hopped down from the desk, shoving his hands into his pockets and heading for the door. The security guard reached out to try and stop him, and Reaver bristled at the near-contact - he hated being touched and would readily lash out at anyone who did so without his express consent.

"Let him go, we need to deal with this first," Leo told the guard, gesturing toward Bridley, who was being loaded onto the stretcher, only just beginning to regain consciousness. "I'll ride in the ambulance with him, you contact his parents," Leo said, and Greyson nodded, too angry to argue, stalking out of the room and in the opposite direction of Reaver, heading deeper into the school to sort out this mess while Reaver once again headed out into the sunshine in the middle of a school day.

Of course, Reaver didn't head straight home - fuck that. He took a detour through a neighbor's yard and up a steep hill toward the house where Reno lived with his parents, four brothers, and two sisters. He figured this was where Reno would take Killian, and he was right. As he stepped through the front door, using the key he'd had since he was eight years old, he heard the sound of pained hissing and a snappish, "Hold still!" coming from the kitchen. He walked in that direction, avoiding the blocks and toy trucks on the floor in the hall, until he could lean himself in the door frame, watching as Reno stitched a gash in Killian's eyebrow. Reno's mom was a nurse, and with all the trouble he, his siblings, and Reaver got into, one thing all of the older kids knew how to do with some degree of expertise was moderate first aid.

"I'm trying, but it hurts," Killian complained, wincing as Reno worked.

Reno harrumphed at this. "Well just imagine what Bridley is going through right now," he said bitterly.

"No one cares what Bridley is going through," Reaver spoke up, announcing his presence, and he smirked faintly as both boys jumped, startled. Reno scowled, snipping the end of the thread, sterilizing the area with rubbing alcohol and seemingly mollified a bit when the sting of it made Killian twitch. Reaver looked Killian over; he was pretty scrawny to have done such a number on Bridley but Reaver couldn't forget the look of pseudo-insanity in Killian's eyes that he'd seen two days in a row now, both seemingly inspired by Bridley's unwanted advances. "Guess you didn't learn your lesson last time."

Killian bristled at that. "Obviously I didn't need your help today, did I?" he fired back, and Reaver chuckled inwardly; he was all puffed up like an angry kitten, it was almost impossible to take him seriously, except Reaver had seen what he'd done to Bridley. Bridley was going to need his nose realigned for certain, but he'd also seen a missing tooth and was pretty certain his jaw was broken as well.

"No, I guess you didn't need our help," Reno said as he put the last butterfly stitch in place on Killian's cheek before dusting off his hands and taking a step back to admire his handiwork. "That means we can drop him off back at school so they can haul in Killian's parents and press charges against them, right Reav?" he said cheerfully, though his good humor faded rapidly as he saw Killian's eyes immediately filled with tears and Reaver's expression hardened into something unfathomable. "What?" Reno asked as Killian erupted into tears and ran out of the kitchen, Reaver hot on his footsteps. "Was it something I said?" he wondered, bewildered.

"Quit making all that noise, you're going to wake the dead," Reaver complained as he caught up to Killian, grabbing the boy's arm and yanking him back - only to find himself on the wrong end of another of Killian's flailing fits, the blond boy shouting to be let go of. Reaver swore, ducking and barrel tackling Killian onto the lawn, pinning the shrieking, crying boy down. This only made things worse; Killian's flailing and crying turned into desperate struggling and shrill screams, and to keep the police from being called by a neighbor, Reaver had no choice but to slap his hand over Killian's mouth. "Killian. Stop. Killian. Come on, Killi. It's me. It's Reaver. You have to stop screaming or I can't let you go."

Reaver held him down there in the grass until the bucking and twisted stopped, Killian's eyes wide and frightened as he breathed harshly through his nose, nostrils flared. Jesus Christ, what had this kid gone through that had him reacting so strongly to being touched? Reaver had thought he was pretty bad, but Killian was quickly becoming the gold medalist of overreaction. He whispered nonsense at the kid until he calmed down enough that Reaver could risk uncovering his mouth, and he wondered ruefully where Reno was; he definitely could have calmed Killian down faster, Reaver had almost no experience comforting anyone and felt stupid when trying, so when he was finally able to roll off of Killian and lie in the grass beside him instead, he was relieved.

"They're going to call my mom?" Killian sniffled miserably. "I...she can't come in, are they really going to call the police?" he asked, and before he could work himself up into a panic, Reaver rolled onto his side and prodded Killian in his injured cheek, making him shout in pain instead of starting to cry again. Sheesh, what a crybaby.

"They're not going to call your mom, they don't even know you were there," Reaver reminded him.

"Bridley will tell them!" Killian exclaimed, brows furrowed.

Reaver shrugged. "You broke Bridley's jaw, he's not going to be telling anyone anything anytime soon. I'll just tell them it was me, and he'll go along with it because getting his shit stomped in by me will be way less humiliating for him than admitting he got beaten up by a twinky little thing like you."

Reaver watched, somewhat enthralled, as Killian's expression cycled between confusion, hope, distrust, and finally landed on indignant. That was Reaver's favorite one, the little puffball kitten look, and he snickered, earning himself a dirty scowl that only made him laugh more. "Who're you calling twinky, you're practically the prettiest boy I've ever met," Killian accused Reaver, wiping the smile off Reaver's face pretty quickly.

"Shut the hell up before I break your jaw," Reaver growled, and this time it was Killian that smiled, his expression nearly angelic even with the gash in his cheek and eyebrow and Reno's stitchwork holding it all together.

"I know I shouldn't let you take the blame," Killian whispered, his smile fading slowly. "But you don't understand," he said, biting his bottom lip and drawing Reaver's eye to it like a magnet. "My mom... she wouldn't be able, be able to handle..."

Reaver groaned, and prodded Killian's injured cheek again, hard, and once again Killian was distracted from tears by the pain. "What the hell, Reaver?" he complained, jumping to his feet and cradling his jaw in his hand, eyeing Reaver with suspicion, like he might do it again.

"Just trying to keep you from flooding the place with all your tears," Reaver said, lifting his hands as if to proclaim his innocence.

Killian huffed. "I take back all the nice things I was thinking about you in my head; you're an asshole."

"You know it," Reaver said with a lazy measure of pride. "Alright, if you're done being crazy, Reno is going to take you home," he said, beckoning toward Reno who had only just wandered out onto his porch. Killian only realized, looking at him there on the porch, that Reno was probably a year or so older than Reaver. He wanted to ask why it was Reno walking him home and not Reaver, but then he saw Reno go around to the driveway and put on a motorcycle helmet.

"He's taking me home on that?" Killian asked, and at first Reaver thought he was going to be a baby about it, but then he realized the boy was looking smitten, not fearful. Somehow, this actually annoyed Reaver even more.

"It's a piece of shit but it gets the job done. Mine is way better," Reaver boasted as Reno headed over, offering Killian a metallic blue helmet that matched the body of the bike.

"Yeah, but yours isn't here, now is it?" Reno jabbed back. "Come on, Killer. I need to hurry and dump you off at home so I can go see if the doctors were able to scrape together what's left of my boyfriend."

"He deserved it," Killian countered automatically. "He's not going to dump me in a ditch somewhere, right?" he asked Reaver, hesitating to follow Reno.

"Nah, he knows I'll kick his ass if he does," Reaver said loud enough for Reno to hear, and the irritation that'd sprung up previously melted away like ice in spring at the look of near-worship he got from Killian. "Now go on, get out of her," he said gruffly, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and setting off on foot back to his own house. He didn't look back, didn't need to. He could feel the heat of Killian's gaze on the back of his neck.

The walk home was without incident, and as he expected, he made it home before his parents despite the detour. He grabbed a bottle of root beer out of the fridge and a bag of Doritos before heading up the stairs to his bedroom, which was an organized mess of things he'd collected over the years. Street signs, neon business signs, movie posters, figurines, computer parts, motorcycle parts - you name it, he had it or something like it. His parents were always after him to clean up, but he couldn't bear to part with any of it, so he did what any sensible teenager would do; he ignored them.

After vegging out in front of reruns of Family Guy, Reaver's peace was interrupted by the sound of the door downstairs being slammed shut.

Showtime.

"Reaver Chance Merrik, get your ass down here, now!" Greyson's voice was like thunder, but Reaver wasn't a kid hiding from storms any longer. He finished off his root beer, chucking the bottle into a bucket designated for recycling, then headed on down. Greyson and Leo sat side by side on the couch, the principal and vice-principal of Aras High School. Or, as Reaver was more likely to introduce them, Greyson and Leo Merrik - his dads.

Reaver dropped into the armchair slouching down in his seat. "He deserved it." There was no point wasting time on niceties.

"His jaw is broken, his shoulder is dislocated," Leo began disapprovingly. "Two of his teeth were knocked out, Reaver - what the hell were you thinking?"

"He deserved it," Reaver repeated obstinately.

"Cut the bullshit, Reaver." Greyson looked angry as ever, but to Reaver that was nothing new. Greyson was always angry at him for something or another; the only difference today was that Greyson wasn't beating the shit out of him for some reason, and this raised his hackles immediately, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Sure enough, Greyson revealed his hand with his next words. "I have the security footage of that hallway. I saw you and Reno rush into that room, and I saw Reno and that freshman leave together, both covered in blood." Leo looked shocked and confused, looking between Greyson and Reaver; he'd been at the hospital with Bridley, smoothing things over with the student's parents who were understandably livid about their son's condition, but had been made patently aware that due to the amounts of money and drugs that had been found in Bridley's possession, if they decided to press charges then Bridley would be the first one arrested.

Leo had felt bad putting Bridley's parents in such a predicament, but Reaver was his son and Leo would do anything, anything at all to protect him. But now Greyson's revelation made it seem as if... "Reaver, you weren't the one that did this to Bridley?"

The grim set of Reaver's mouth was unchanging. "He got what he deserved, end of story. Am I going to be arrested?" he asked, doubling down on his intention to take the blame. He'd seen Killian's mother with his own eyes; there was no way he was going to put her through this. A lack of empathy was one thing, but that would just be a dick move.

"No, son. You're not going to be arrested," Greyson sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But you need to tell us what happened in that room. And if you do," Leo and Greyson exchanged a look that Reaver immediately disliked. "We'll tell you more about your new friend, the freshman named Killian."

Reaver hated the way his heart jumped at that offer, and his scowl deepened. Crossing his arms, he sat back in his seat. "Bridley is Killian's drug dealer," he said bluntly. "And Bridley has a problem keeping his hands to himself. It was a drug deal gone wrong, and Bridley got what he deserved, beaten half to death by a freshman that hits like a girl," he snickered to himself. "Did the camera catch any of it?" he asked, hopefully.

"It didn't, the camera only recorded the hallway, which is probably a good thing, because if footage existed of Bridley getting the injuries he has, no threat of drug charges would be enough to keep his parents and their lawyer at bay," Leo stated wryly.

"Now it's your turn," Reaver demanded. Whatever information they had would be useful; practically everything he knew about Killian he'd gained through stalking him.

"Killian's dad was a junkie," Greyson began, looking weary. "He died a few years back of an overdose, leaving Killian and his mom on their own. As if that wasn't bad enough, he'd accrued some heavy debt due to his addiction, and after his death, his family was on the hook for the payments. His mom ran a small bookstore, but it wasn't bringing in enough to cover the bills, raise a kid, and pay off drug dealers. In order to keep his mother from getting roughed up, Killian turned himself over to the drug dealers to work off his father's debt." When Reaver's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, fury radiating off of him in waves, Greyson held out his hand. "Not like that, at least as far as I've gathered. More along the lines of being a lookout, and things of that nature, but I'm sure during that time he saw more than his fair share of the worst of the world. The drug ring was eventually busted by the authorities and that got him out of that situation, but then two years ago, Killian's mother was diagnosed with cancer. By the time they caught it, it'd spread past the point of treatment and she was put on palliative care, but then the money ran out, and the insurance with it." Greyson sat back in his seat. "I'm assuming, based on the type of drugs in Bridley's possession, that Killian has been buying prescription painkillers to ease his mother's eventual passing."

Reaver thought back to the day he'd followed Killian all the way home; he recalled how frail and fragile Killian's mother had been. He felt a moment of guilt, realizing that though he knew Killian's mother was unwell, he'd not put two and two together and had simply assumed that Killian's problems with Bridley stemmed from a drug problem of his own. It wasn't that unusual, plenty of Aras High's students had recreational habits that ranged from weed to cocaine, and Bridley did a brisk business in its halls. But upon reflection Reaver could see that Killian really didn't have the look of a junkie, at least not to the point where he'd be tolerating Bridley's sexual advances. But for his mother? Yeah, he could see it.

"Thanks," is all Reaver said aloud, rising from his seat, though he paused at the piercing look Leo was leveling in his direction. "What?" he asked guardedly.

"That kid has been through a lot, and things are only going to get worse with his mother's condition deteriorating the way it is. If you can't handle that, you'd better cut whatever ties have started to form now," Leo said, so bluntly it was as if Greyson had written the words for him. Reaver's expression darkened and he opened his mouth to fire off a flippant retort; what he did was none of Leo's god damned business and he was happy to let his dad know this, but Leo held up a hand to stop him. "No, Reaver. Shut the fuck up and listen: he's had enough of people in and out of his life, so if you're going to be an asshole just don't. He doesn't need any more of that shit and that's all I have to say on the matter. Now get your ass up to your room, I've got a headache from dealing with Bridley's parents and your face is making it worse."

Reaver narrowed his eyes before turning sharply and heading up to his room, letting the door slam shut behind him. Leo wasn't often an asshole, but when it happened, he and Greyson both knew to steer clear. Greyson might be the bigger, more dominant partner in the relationship, but Reaver knew enough from being raised by the pair that when the shit hit the fans it was Leo that tended to snap first and not only was he just as heavy-handed as Greyson, he was much more vicious; where Greyson was an authoritarian, Leo was more prone to rage, like Reaver.

Flopping on his bed, Reaver idly wished he'd grabbed another root beer, before spacing out in front of the television, one of his last coherent thoughts before sleep claimed him that of Killian's blond curls, and how they might feel between his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos or comment, thank you :)

**Author's Note:**

> I've got a few more chapters along this same vein; this won't be a very long story but I love these characters so much. Leave a kudos if you love them as well, leave a comment if you liked the first chapter.


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